


Missed Milestones

by kirkwords



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Family Angst, Grief, Hiccup is a sad boy, Post-HTTYD2, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24050524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirkwords/pseuds/kirkwords
Summary: Valka wants to help her son with the death of his father. Hiccup, in turn tells her all the things he wished he could.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Missed Milestones

“I miss your father too Hiccup, we all do.” 

“Huh, yeah? That’s what everyone is saying. At least they knew him before he died.” 

The new chief scowled at the woman following him to his house. His mother. He was still trying to wrap his head around that fact. She had betrayed them to live with dragons for most of his life, but he was prepared to excuse her absence in his life; that was until his father died. He supposed that Stoick could help him adjust to having his mother around, but he couldn’t do that for him now. Hiccup had to go on alone. 

They entered the house the silence, Valka making herself seemingly too much at home to Hiccup’s liking.

“I knew Stoick well,” Valka finally spoke, soundly mildly offended at the thought that she didn’t know her own husband. 

Hiccup stopped at his dining table, looking down at his father’s journal that he had left on the table, before going out to find his son who had run off after Drago Bludvist. It was open on a sketch of a Thunderdrum. “You knew the Stoick from 20 years ago. You did not know the Stoick from last week. You don’t know that he loved Thornado as much as he loved Skullcrusher. You don’t know that he neglected his son for five straight years, from the ages of ten because his heir didn’t act like a ‘real viking’. You don’t know that the only reason dragons are even on this island are because Stoick’s son risked his life to defeat the Red Death, and a Night Fury saved him from falling head first into a massive fire. You don’t...” he trailed off as the emotion rose up his throat, flicking through the pages covered with his dad’s handwriting. 

“Son…” Valka began. She reached for his shoulder. He batted it away, turning his body to face her; his eyes fixated on the floor. 

“I’m not your son.”

The crackling of the fire pit added weight to his words. He meant every word of it. 

“Hiccup, yes you a-”

“My mother is dead.” 

“Hi-”

“You could have come back. Why didn’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

_ How was she not getting this? _ He thought, getting fed up. He spoke after a beat of silence, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could process what he was even saying. As he kept going, his voice got louder, trying to hear himself over the spiraling thoughts in his head, turning to a hurricane of words he wished he had said when he had entered that Sanctuary. 

“Why didn’t you come back? Cloudjumper didn't kill you. You could have come back to us, to Dad. He cried over you every night for 20 years Valka. He loved you. If it had been him taken by a dragon that night, I know he would have tried to come back, to his wife and son. He never gave up on me. He hoped I would become as strong as he was. He was there for me. He held my hand as I took my first steps, he heard me say my first word. He was there for every single milestone in my life. My first kiss, my first battle. He helped me through the nights where I screamed and cried at nightmares and phantom pains after I lost my leg. He fought along side me in wars against the Outcasts, the Beserkers, and Viggo Grimborn. He was my Dad, and he fucking acted like it!” 

The hurricane passed, leaving the debris of his words to lie over the floor between them. He opened his eyes, his vision clouded with pain and tears. The grief spilled from his tear ducts and hit the wooden floor. His hand gripped to the table, the only thing keeping him from falling to the floor. Everything in him shook at the memories in his mind. He wished he could push them away, at least for the time being. 

“I want you to leave,” was the only thing he could muster, “now.” 

He didn’t watch his mother as she stumbled back, and quietly left the house, wiping away the tears in her own eyes. He didn’t watch as Astrid walked in soon after and helped him into his father’s chair, and gave him a cup of water. He didn’t watch as she kissed his head and stoked the fire to keep it burning. He didn’t watch anything for several hours, as he retreated into the far recesses of his mind, just wishing, just hoping that Stoick would walk through the door and hug him.

But he never would.

Not now. 


End file.
